Harder Than You Know
by GenericInnocence
Summary: Grif's hand shook ever so slightly as he took a drag on his cigarette, he desperately wanted to calm his nerves after his latest run in with Sarge... I'm horrible at summaries /
1. Bruised & Broken

Hello.. First fic ever posted on FF hope you like and if not please don't flame.

Disclaimer: I own nothing escept the story concept.

Ch. 1 Bruised & Broken

Grif's hand shook ever so slightly as he took a drag on his cigarette, he desperately wanted to calm his nerves after his latest run in with Sarge. Things had steadily become worse with the two, their fights were no longer petty they were heated and violent; Sarge's sadistic nature uncapped when Simmons and Donut were out of the base. Grif let the cigarette hang from the edge his mouth as he gently traced his fingers around the darkening bruises on his side. Dull pain resurfaced as he did so, and a flash of Sarge's steel toed boot crashing into his ribs came with it. He hadn't been able to breath for what seemed like an eternity after the relentless assault. He had simply writhed on the ground while his commanding officer laughed jabbing him with his shotgun. Grif closed his eyes against the vision. He was glad no one was around to see him like this, bruised all over with a bloody lip and still swollen face, he was a mess. Grif had yet to clean himself up from almost a half hour ago, mainly because it was painful to move in the slightest.

A sharp knock at his door made Grif jump and sit upright on his bed, his adrenaline instantly pumping, the only other person at the base was Sarge. He quickly put the cigarette out and pulled the disheveled sheets up around him and over his head. The pain in his side was searing from the sudden movement, he gritted his teeth together trying not to make any noise as he heard the door unlock and open. Grif although frantic, tried to slow his breathing and appear to be asleep hoping the other man would just leave. Instead heavy footsteps made their way over to him stopping beside his bed. The thin sheet was moved away from his face and a callused hand made it's way across his forehead; brushing the matted hair away from his now sweaty brow. His bed gave way as the other sat next to him, and the hand trailed from his face down to his side. "Having a bad dream dirtbag?" Sarge asked, his voice sounded like he was smiling. A throaty groan escaped Grif's lips as Sarge suddenly pressed down harshly across the man's bruised ribs. Grif's eyes shot open to meet Sarge's icy blue ones, "You didn't expect me to fall for that did you, ya piece of shit? I'm not even close to done with you yet." Grif's heartbeat was pounding in his head and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Y-Yea? Well I'm done with you, so get the h- hell away from me old man.." Grif pushed Sarge's hand away from him somewhat forcibly, but the smart-ass remark came out with no conviction. The older man snarled and stood, grabbing a fistful of Grif's hair to pull him out of the bed by. Grif hit the ground hard crying out as he did so. Without time to recover Grif found himself being dragged across the slick floor, still by his hair, he clawed at Sarge's arm and hand that held him. Letting go Sarge slammed the orange soldier into the wall head first, the room seemed to spin, black spots blurred his vision. Trying to regain his grasp on consciousness Grif felt Sarge press in-between his legs, pushing Grif into the wall with his neck at an awkward angle. "Get off!" Grif yelled in a panicked voice, struggling with everything he had to get free of Sarge. Yet with one hand Sarge grabbed Grif's wrists and slammed them against the wall pinning them there effortlessly. Grif let out a pained whimper as his breath caught in his throat, his arms and neck were flat against the wall and he strained to readjust himself feeling like his neck was going to break from all the pressure on it. His breathing was coming raggedly because of his pinched windpipe, and the stabbing pain from his undoubtedly cracked ribs was coursing through his body in agonizing waves. He felt completely helpless, dominated, and defeated, tears began to roll down his cheeks. He wondered what he had done to make Sarge want to kill him..

Sarge's free hand had made its way down to the waistband of Grif's pants, a single finger slide its way under the cloth rubbing against his lower stomach lightly. Grif's clouded eyes shot up to Sarge's face and the twisted smile scrawled across it, a whole new wave of fear came crashing over him.

------

I'll spare the details for the moment.

R&R please.

tell me if you want the squicky details =P


	2. Greener on the other side

Ch.2 Greener on the other side (I'll spare you the gruesome squicky details)

Finally making their way back to Red Base after a couple rounds about the canyon, Simmons and Donut found it to be entirely to quite.

"Hello?!" Donut yelled out, his voice echoing through the halls. "You think everything is okay?" he asked quietly to Simmons.

"Maybe the Blue's finally made their move while we were out, the chances of that are pretty slim though.." Simmons answered back, looking into nearby rooms for any sign of Sarge or Grif.

"Well it is kinda late," Donut shrugged "maybe they went to sleep?"

"11 o' clock isn't that late Donut. Then again one of these people we're talking about is Grif, and he can sleep anytime any place." Simmons sighed "What a lazy fuck... Sarge on the other hand is probably working on something, you know how he is."

"Yea, you're right. It just seemed eerily calm. I dunno, but I'm off to bed to then, I need my beauty sleep. G'night!" With that Donut was off to his room.

Simmons on the other hand took a seat on the sofa, he didn't feel like groping in the dark to find his own bed or being bitched at by Grif if he turned the light on in their room. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the sofa. Being on patrol with Donut was tiring, the pink soldier nearly talked his ear off with things he didn't care about in the slightest. What fashion was in, how he should do his hair, his fear of spiders when they came across one; the end of the day hadn't come fast enough. Letting out a heavy sigh he opened his eyes and was startled to find Sarge standing in front of him, he hadn't heard him walk up. He set his hand back in his lap that had instinctively gone for his gun. "Hello sir." he said, his voice tired.

"Come ere Simmons, I need your help with Grif." Sarge motioned to the hallway that lead to their rooms, a smile playing at his lips. Simmons looked confused but stood up, complying to the order without question, he wanted to know what kind of practical joke he was up to now. Sarge lead the way down the hall to the shared room. Simmons was slightly shocked when Sarge just threw the door to the room open. i'So much for the element of surprise.'/i he thought to himself.

The light in the room was already on and Simmons shielded his eyes at first from the sudden brightness. As his eyes adjusted he was taken aback when he saw Grif laying in the middle of the room in a sort of defensive position. Except his arms had been tightly handcuffed behind his back, his ankles were bound together by thick rope, a piece of duct tape wrapped around his head to cover his mouth, and he was beaten to a pulp. Apart from the shallow breathing he would have thought Grif was dead. "What the hell happened?" Simmons asked, this wasn't a very funny practical joke he thought.

"He was bein' insubordinate, an I had ta teach em a lesson. Grab his legs Simmons, part of his punishment will be ta sleep outside tanight." Sarge had a smug look on his face as he ordered the maroon soldier to do his bidding. "Maybe some wild animal will get him or something."

Although Simmons didn't exactly agree with the punishment he wouldn't argue it. "Yes sir." he said and walked over to Grif's huddled form taking his legs carefully. He didn't want to cause his team mate more harm.

"Put em up behind a rock or somthin', I don't want anyone to come across him." Sarge began to walk out of the room to leave Simmons with his dirty work, stopping at the door he added with a chuckle. "Oh an if he wakes up, knock em out again."

Simmons looked down at Grif, and a twinge of sadness fell across him. i'Whatever he did it probably didn't warrant this type of treatment...'/i he thought to himself. He dragged the limp form down the hallway to the door. It was a cool night and he thought to grab a spare blanket to drape over Grif, but he feared that Sarge would get very upset if he did so. Instead he opened the door and dragged his team mate across the hard ground pretty far away from their base and curled him up beside a cold boulder. Lightning flashed in the distance suddenly, and Simmons could feel his stomach drop. He contemplated trying to sneak Grif back into the house and convince Sarge to let him rot a different night; but he knew if he did so he'd be the one sleeping out in the cold rain. Simmons turned away from Grif and walked back to base wringing his hands, he felt horrible.

i-The next morning-/i

Church was anything but happy as he walked around the canyon in the rain at such an ungodly hour of the morning. There was absolutely no need to patrol, because the fact remained that the Red's weren't going to attack. He usually stopped his patrol line just about halfway between the two bases but it was early, he had nothing better to do, and the Red Team was definitely still asleep, so he just kept walking toward the Red side. Maybe he'd find some gadget Sarge had been working on and sabotage it.

As he walked a muffled sound reach his ears, he slowed his pace and listened more closely, he wouldn't put it past the leader of the red team to be up and ready to attack a wondering blue. The sound came again, but this time it sounded more like stifled whimpering. Church turned to where the noise seemed to emanate from, and to his amazement there was a bound and gagged Red not 20ft from him. He was still too far to tell who it was through the heavy rain, but by the light orange shirt he guessed it was Grif. i'What the fuck...?'/i

Church made his way over to the red. Grif's knees were drawn to his chest trying to keep body heat, he was shaking violently, and his grey eyes seemed to plead for the blue to help him. "Did you lose a bet or something? Jeez." Church shook his head and turned to walk back off "You better hope your team comes for you soon before you die from pneumonia.."

Grif's eyes grew wide when the blue turned his back on him, he didn't want to be left here again it would be hours before anyone came to retrieve him. He began to sob, his tears mixing with the rain. He cried out as best as he could through the tape. It was somewhat a relief when Church turned back to face him.

"You're pathetic, but I could use you as an excuse to get out of this pointless patrol.... I'll have Doc take a look at you when he comes in later." Church bent and picked up the slightly smaller man bridal style. The cold armor stung Grif's exposed arms and legs and he grimaced as throbbing pain coursed through his body again.

"You're fucking heavy." Church groaned making his way back to blue base.


	3. All Good Things Come to an End

Before people flame me about the very very long "run-on sentence" in the middle of the page, it's called "streaming of consciousness". Google it. Also, sorry about the EXTREMELY late update. I've been very busy with school and work and moving and just tons of bs... Anyway please enjoy I'll try to update faster than a year later. Haha... ah... -_-

Ch.3 All Good Things Come to an End

Kicking the door to the blue base closed, Church looked around for a place to set Grif. He briefly contemplated the concrete floor, before deciding to sacrifice their semi-nice couch for the wet red. Grif groaned thru the silver tape as he was placed on the couch. He was glad to be found but being moved had brought back the stabbing pain all over his body.

"I'd untie you but, I don't want you wandering around the base while I change." Church stated, clearly not understanding the extent of Grif's injuries. He looked the bound soldier over quickly, then walked off down the hall disappearing into a far room.

Grif let his eyes fall closed, he hadn't slept all night and was mentally and physically exhausted. He ignored the droplets of water that fell down his face from his soaked hair and drifted off into a nightmare.

He was back in his room face down chest slumped onto the cold floor bruised knees stinging with every thrust from the man behind him there was no sign of stopping it wasn't as unbearable as the first or second time had been the blood trickling down his leg no doubt easing the interaction between the two of them a deep moan gurgled in the back of his throat the sound unable to make its way through the blood and saliva that clogged his agape mouth he had given up any form of protest except the uncontrolled sounds that escaped him every so often the older man seemed to find it amusing when the moan came going harder hoping to get more out of him his cuffed hands groping pointlessly for something to hold on to every sensation was becoming to much now his whole body tensed the man grabbed his hips pulling him violently toward the source of the most pain and an agonizing yell escaped his lips and his eyes clouded over once more with tears above him the silver haired man was laughing he whimpered loudly each time the other pounded into him the intervals between each thrust becoming shorter and more forceful – everything turned black the pain is dulled and there is a singular pressure on his forehead.

Grif's eyes fluttered open to meet bright blue ones, he moved his head back in surprise and confusion, it was Caboose.

"Tucker, he's alive." Caboose stated removing his finger from Grif's forehead.

"Of course he's alive Caboose, he was making all those weird noises..." Tucker said coming into Grif's field of view holding a bowl of cereal. "Church must have picked him up while he was out." He glared down at the red "What the hell were you doing anyway?"

Not entirely sure if the man wanted an answer from him Grif just stared up at Tucker, he couldn't exactly say anything even if he wanted to. Tucker handed his bowl to Caboose before leaning over and grabbing Grif's arm hoisting him to a sitting position. Grif cried out in protest for the abrupt movement.

A smile had formed on Tucker's dark face, he was obviously enjoying the fact that Grif could not answer. He reached behind him, retrieving a pistol from his back waistband; he cocked it and pressed it to Grif's temple. "I'll ask you again, what the fuck were you doing?"

Grif's eyes grew wide looking from Tucker, to the gun, to Caboose, even down the hall were Church had still not returned from, and finally back at Tucker. He tried to speak but it of course came out incoherently, but he kept rambling anyway. Tucker laughed, Caboose joined in; clearly the blonde boy didn't understand the extent of the situation as he sipped at the milk in Tucker's bowl.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Church yelled from down the hall.

Tucker removed his gun and sat next to Grif. "Just having some fun with the prisoner. You did a pretty good job roughing him up, I think he's ready to talk."

Church smoothed his eyebrows on his approach to the couch in order to calm himself, he wasn't expecting these two up for a couple more hours. He didn't know how to explain what was happening, mainly because he didn't even know what was happening.

"I found him snooping around the base earlier." Church stated deciding to go with the prisoner idea, it seemed fitting enough. He spotted the red cocking an eyebrow at him.

Tucker began to remove the tape from around Grif's head "Well let's hear what he has to say." The tape ripped hair as it was unwrapped from around his head nonchalantly by Tucker; he tore the last bit of tape off forcibly causing the red to twitch. "Well?" Tucker asked.

Grif cleared his throat "I was sent over here to cut the power to your base." Anything was better than the truth.

"So you came in a wife-beater and boxers?" Tucker questioned.

"Yes..." Grif looked down at himself and rolled his eyes.

"Why?"

"To be more agile."

"That didn't work to well for you."

"Nope. Can you please untie me now?"

"Hell no! You're our bitch now."

"I have to piss."

"Then piss yourself."

"Shut the fuck up Tucker and untie him." Church finally chimed in. "I'm sure you don't want to be cleaning the couch."

"Caboose, untie his legs. I'll get his hands, I guess." Tucker ordered.

Caboose set the empty bowl on the table and promptly followed his teammates instructions pulling at the thick rope trying to get it off. Tucker repositioned himself behind Grif, sitting on the back of the couch. He stared at the handcuffs for a moment before giving them a trial tug.

"Key?" Tucker asked, holding out his hand to Church.

"Uhhh..." Church hadn't realized Grif had been handcuffed. "I lost it?"

"Are you asking me or telling me you lost it?"

"I don't have it. You know how to pick locks though right?"

"Because I'm black I know how to pick locks?"

"I think I know how to pick a lock." Caboose offered, the thick rope now hanging loosely from his shoulders.

"Um okay then Caboose you go ahead and try it. Tucker, you're useless. It's your watch anyway, get to it." Church folded his arms across his chest as Tucker grumbled off. It wasn't technically Tucker's watch for about two and a half more hours, but morning drama was not something Church felt like dealing with today. Before he had even realized Caboose had moved, Grif's handcuffs were unlocked and the boy was putting the bobby pin back in his pocket. "Wow. I honestly thought we were going to be here for hours." Caboose just smiled and left for the kitchen.

"You have some serious team issues on this side." Grif said under his breath rubbing his worn wrists and rolling his shoulders in place. It honestly didn't help the burning in his shoulder blades but just to move was nice. He looked up at Church to find him staring back. "What are you looking at?"

"What really happened?" Church was practically glaring at him.

"Like I told your friend, I really have to piss." He had no intention of telling the blue the story of last night. Grif stood, which he promptly found to be a bad idea. His knees immediately threatened to give out and his head spun, he grabbed the armrest of the couch to steady himself. His whole body began to shake, straining itself to stay standing, salient pain pulsing through him. "Where is the goddamn bathroom!" His breath became ragged, a cacophony of emotion was assaulting him. Frustration, confusion, embarrassment, guilt, shame, disgust, some he couldn't even place. He felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes.

A loud knock at the main door interrupted Grif's break down, and caused Church to jump slightly.

"Open up ya dirty blues!"

Grif stared in horror at the unbolted door, his breathing started to sound asthmatic, Sarge had come for him.


	4. Everything is Broken

Let me just throw this out there. I, like many of you, am my own worst critic. I usually HATE the pieces I write, until I read, re-read and re-read them again. I always find something wrong with it, something that makes me not want to continue writing certain stories, like, well this one. I figured hey no big deal when I decided not to update this story again. Alas I kept getting emails in my inbox about this thing. So I came to the story page and read it again after months, and I decided hey this is not half bad I'll continue. Thank you all for your continued support. 3's for all =]

Chapter 4: Everything is broken

Grif began to hyperventilate his breath coming in short deep breaths. He could feel his grip on the armrest slipping, but could do nothing apart from letting himself fall to his bruised knees. He half slide half crawled around to the back of the couch taking an exasperated seat there. Placing his head against the solid back of the old couch he scrunched his eyes shut and tried desperately to slow his breath back to normal.

The blue base door swung open hitting the wall before vibrating back to Sarge who now stood in the doorway, shotgun in hand. "I believe ya have somethin' of mine." he said practically glaring at the blue. "I want 'em back."

Church cocked an eyebrow at the older man, just who did he think he was barging into his base making demands. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Jus' hand 'em over and I'll be on my way." As he spoke Sarge aimed his gun at the non-compliant blue.

"I captured him, he's our prisoner now. I'm not just going to hand him over without something in return." Church crossed his arms and stood a little taller, he was semi-confident Sarge wouldn't blow a hole in his chest. "When I think of something I want I'll come and negotiate with you. As of right now you're all alone in the enemy's base making demands that will not be fulfilled. I'll say it again. Get the fuck out; before you have a hole in your head."

Momentarily Sarge was puzzled, the blue before him was not armed, however at second glance around the room he saw two others that were. The black one in the hallway, clad in teal armor yet helmet-less, had a magnum aimed at Sarge's head. The other one was in the kitchen, still in pajamas, lazily aiming a battle rifle at him. He inwardly cursed, he should have seen this coming. "Well son of a bitch. Fine... fine have it your way." Sarge placed his hand on the doorknob but did not lower his gun. "If you don't come up with something soon, I'll be back with my boys and we'll just have to have ourselves a lil' gun fight." with that the red backed out of the doorway and slammed the door shut.

"We should have just shot him-" Tucker began, only to be cut off by the dirty look Church gave him.

"Go patrol!" Church yelled at Tucker, the teal soldier obeyed; leaving without another word. Not to keen on being yelled at, Caboose scooped up his cereal bowl in one hand and scurried off down the hall before the other blue had a chance to say anything to him. Church was now sufficiently pissed. The whole situation was getting on his last nerve. Walking around to the back of the couch he grabbed Grif by the collar and yanked him into a standing position. "You owe me a goddamn explanation!"

Grif stumbled forward still unable to stand on his own, he grabbed onto Church's shoulders to save himself from completely falling into the man. Caught off guard by suddenly having to support almost all of the red's weight Church staggered backwards, simultaneously pulling Grif closer to him. The orange soldiers head lolled forward into the crook of the others neck.

Church's first reaction was to violently push the Red away from him, but the urge was quickly stifled. The anger and rage slowly replaced with pity and feelings his mind wouldn't give names too. He felt Grif's warm ragged breath on his neck, the slight quiver of his lips. Church's hair began to stand on end.

The man's damp body shook against his own, seemingly wanting for warmth. The Red's hand slide from one of the his shoulders grasping limply around the hand that was vice gripped on his collar. Church didn't loosen his grip, he felt the man tug loosely in protest. His hand was so soft. Almost womanly. The shaking became more insistent and Church felt warm drops of water drip down his neck and across his collarbone. Tears no doubt.

"Please, don't trade me back to him... Please I'll do anything." Grif managed to whimper out between clenched teeth and raking sobs.

The words didn't really register with Church as much as they served to rip him out of his sensory overload. His grip on Grif's shirt loosened and he felt his face grow warm. What the hell had just happened? Grif should be sprawled out on the ground not practically held in his arms. Church quickly reached behind him and pulled a kitchen chair over with his free hand. "Sit." he said while backing Grif's knees into the chair.

Grif sat dishearteningly, his head drooped down and his hands sat languidly in his lap, tears dripped freely to his already damp and dirty boxers. He could feel Church starring at him but did not look up, he did not want to look into the cold judging eyes of someone who didn't and wouldn't understand. What would happen if he told him what really happened? He would be disgusted of course. Maybe he would laugh, of course he would laugh. It would be funny because that doesn't happen to men. How could it not be funny to someone like him. He bit down on his cut lip at the thought of being traded back over so easily, like he wasn't even human. It was a mistake to ever beg for the blue too take him in. He should have just let himself die out there.


	5. Look At Me

I have a couple more chapters written after this, like I have them on my computer waiting to be uploaded, but I decided to space them out. Don't hate me lol or hate me... you know whatever. At least it won't be 2 more years until the next update... Jesus... so long... I'm sorry! Dx

Chapter 5: Look At Me

"Hey, look at me." Church said in a demanding tone, but all the other did was wrap his arms around himself in response. Church sighed heavily. He wanted answers. He deserved answers. The vein in his forehead twitched, the anger was coming back. His hand shot out and grabbed Grif's chin, he would just have to make him cooperate.

Grif forcibly hit the others hand away, then he recoiled just as quickly. He sat flat backed in the hard wooden chair in an effort to put distance between himself and Church. His gray eyes were wide and searching for any sign of retaliation, they quickly darted to the side as to not look directly at the Blue.

Church was taken aback by the sudden display, the Red was sent into a frenzy by a mere touch. Church said nothing as he studied Grif. The black eye, the cuts across his lips, the congealed blood around his wrists from the handcuffs that had undoubtedly been too tight. Dark bruises seemed to creep from under his blood stained orange wife-beater, smaller bruises on his thighs, scraped knees. His gaze moved over the other man trying to imagine the course of events that brought him their current situation.

When Grif wasn't accosted for his bold move he chanced a look back at the Blue standing over him. Church was starring intently back, eyes narrowed at him. Studying him. Church's eyes locked onto Grif's as soon as he caught him looking back. Grif wanted nothing more in that moment than to hide, his face was on fire. Immediately, he looked back at the floor.

Church grabbed another chair and dragged it nosily across the concrete floor to sit across from Grif. "Obviously," Church started "something happened over at red base and you don't want to talk about it. But seeing as I am now involved in your little lovers quarrel you need to tell me what is going on." He paused hoping Grif would chime in. No response. " Look, I could tie you up again and put you right back where I found you or you could let me help you. Personally I'm growing quite fond of leaving you as a present at Sarge's door." Grif did not move but his eyes traveled up to look at him briefly.

"You should have left me there." Grif said almost inaudibly.

"Is that your way of telling me you want to go back to your base? It would have been a lot easier just to let Sarge take you back in that case." Church clasped his hands together tightly trying to keep a cool temperament. This was going no where.

"You don't understand..."

"I'm trying to understand, but you're making it really fucking difficult!" His tone was harsh. "I find you beat to hell, bring you here out of what I can only place as empathy, then get my door flying open and I'm staring down the barrel of a shotgun! I'm really fed up with the bullshit of today, so if you could just make this a little more simple for my brain to wrap around that would be great! Like fucking fantastic actually!" He didn't remember standing but he was now towering over the other man who was still looking at the ground. He probably wasn't even paying attention. Church bent down putting his face just inches from Grif's. "You're supposed to look at people when they talk to you." he growled into his ear, it made Grif noticeable shiver but not look; he just sat rigid and frozen. Church had had no idea that this was a pet peeve of his until this moment. He grabbed a fistful of Grif's hair and yanked his head back to look at him. "What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled but instantly regretted it. The sheer terror written across Grif's face was enough to make him let go and take a step back.

Grif stared, eyes unwavering from Church, afraid to take them away again. He waited like a cornered dog waits to be hit for doing something wrong. "We – we got in a fight, um Sarge and I.. I .. I" he was stumbling over his words. It was like everything was trying to come out at once for fear of not answering Church fast enough. "I lost and and well I - he was just too strong and I'm pathetic... and I deserved it... but no..." His voice faltered and cracked while he tried to hold back a new wave of tears. "and and... and I was in so much pain, then then he was suddenly on top of – of me.. I couldn't breath." Tears started to fall but his eyes never left Church. "I can't I- I.. he just-"

"Stop." Church said flatly. It all clicked in a way that made him sick, his heart was in his stomach. "I'm sorry okay?" He felt like saying that wasn't enough. He was suddenly unsure of how to proceed. "I had no idea, that's the last thing I expected to hear... I'm sorry I made you say anything.." He knelt in front of him putting a hand tentatively on the others knee. "It's okay.." Horrible. "I won't hurt you." I already did. "Not again anyway..." I'm a horrible person.

Grif's hands came up to cover his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling, trying to shut it all out. He hadn't stop shivering whether it was from the pain, cold, exhaustion, or utter embarrassment he didn't know. In the back of his mind he could tell Church was really and truly sorry, but he didn't want the man any where near him. Not to touch him. But at least he hadn't laughed like he had thought he would have. That would have killed him.

"Grif..?" The Blue's hand left his knee leaving just warmth there. "I'm gonna get the first aid kit okay? I don't know when Doc..." Grif tuned the rest of the words out, he was just talking to talk now. Fill the silence and make everything alright. It wasn't okay, wasn't going to be. And no first aid kit would fix that.


	6. Help Me Help You

This chapter is dedicated to my bff Kaley, she single handily motivated me to write this chapter.

6. Help Me Help You

Grif was now sitting on Church's bed freshly out of the bath, he had a towel wrapped around his head and waist, air drying the rest of his body. He didn't feel like moving. The warm water and the feeling of finally being clean only did so much for him. The feeling of Sarge's touch was still there. Still ghosting across his skin when he thought back to last night. The numbingly constant feeling of pain was also still present, only sudden or awkward movements brought back the worst of it. He looked down at the ugly bruises across his stomach watching the way they seemed to dance as he breathed.

There was a gentle knock on the door followed by Church's voice asking if he was decent. Grif responded with a quiet 'I guess' and the door swung slowly open. "I brought you some clothes... and some bandages." Church held up a pile of clothes in one hand and the small first aid kit in the other. When Grif didn't say anything Church walked in and walked over to the bed to hand him the clothes and box. "Do you uhh need help with anything?"

"No." Grif stated not bothering to adjust his gaze from the wall to Church.

"Okay... umm.. well I'll just leave these here then." He set the things on his bed and walked back out closing the door.

Grif looked at the bedroom door as it clicked shut, then at the clothes and little box he left behind. The clothes consisted of a light blue t-shirt, black sweat pants, blue boxers, mismatched white socks and a gray hoodie. He wasn't sure how he felt wearing someone else's boxers, but it would probably beat going commando in someone else's pants. He climbed into them without another thought. The t-shirt however, made him hesitate as he pulled it over his head, it smelled strongly of Church. It was a pleasant fragrance, and some how made him feel more at ease. He inhaled deeply before pulling it the rest of the way down, and looping his arms though.

Moving on to the first aid kit, he fumbled with the stuck clasp a while before popping it open. The contents went flying, scattering across the bed. He sighed grabbing the gauze that would be going around his wrists. Antibiotic had already been put on earlier in the kitchen, but he had washed it all off at this point. He had scrubbed his whole body to the point of rawness. The pink lines mocked him, he could almost feel the cold metal stinging him. Reapplying the cream was easy, the wrapping became difficult. He held one end in between his teeth, while he wrapped. The dressing was either too tight or too loose, he became frustrated and gave up trying to make it perfect. Grif put his hands at his sides and stared at the blank beige wall. His thoughts were all muddled and he began to get lost in the them as he stared.

Grif didn't notice when the bedroom door lazily swung back open emitting Church. He just sat hunched over on the side of the bed staring, eyes half lidded with the light blue shirt pulled up over his nose. His hoodie draped over his head but was not on his arms or zipped up. The wrapping on his wrists had come undone and just hung loosely, pooling where his hands met the bed, not helping to cover the would be scars.

Church shifted his weight from one foot to the other contemplating whether or not to back out of the room. Instead he just cleared his throat.

Grif jumped and looked over sharply. His face turned vibrant red as he ripped the shirt collar from his face to back around his neck. "What?" he asked, voice cracking.

Church suppressed a smile. "I was just wondering if you were doing okay, you've been in here for almost 2 hours. I mean, I did knock... so … sorry for intruding on whatever you were doing?" A smirk managed to sneak onto his lips. 'What a weirdo.' he thought.

Grif rolled his eyes, he thought Church could have knocked louder. If he had in fact knocked at all. "Yea I'm fine. Thanks for the dry clothes." he muttered. Had it really been 2 hours? He didn't even remember what he had been thinking about, let alone when he had moved the shirt up around his face like that. How embarrassing.

Church moved and sat on the bed next to Grif. "May I?" he asked pointing to the bandages.

Grif resisted the urge to scoot away, he was too close to him and his mind was yelling at him to not let the blue touch him. "Sure.." he said anyway.

Church took the others wrist in his hands carefully undoing the gauze. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes.." he said quietly watching the Blue re-wrap his wrists. He was so gentle, his hands so warm.

"What would you like me to make you?" Church finished taping the bandages.

"Make me?" Say nothing he'll poison you. "I'll take whatever."

Church took an instant ice pack from the kit and broke it, making it cold. "Unfortunately we don't have any anti-inflammatory meds, but this should help the swelling." He turned the red's hand palm up and placed the pack in his hand.

The feeling of the cold of the pack spread across the palm of his hand, combining with the warmth of Church's hand gave him gooseflesh. Almost reluctantly he removed his hand from the others to place the pack on his eye. It was soothing. Grif watched through his good eye as Church went to picking up the mess of first aid supplies on the bed without question. His mind mused 'He's still going to trade you back to Sarge, no matter how nice he is being now you're still gonna end up right back where you were.' How nice.

"So have you thought about what you're going to trade me for?" His voice was hollow.

"I figured I'd just go kick his ass, and convince you to switch teams." Church said, a smile forced to his lips. Grif didn't seem to find it amusing in the slightest. "Or we could just say you died or ran away and then a mysterious new Blue shows up on our side. No one would know." Again not amused.

Grif wanted to indulge in Church's ideas but he figured it would be pointless he was somehow predestined to be stuck with his commanding officer until he killed him.

"Come on give me something here, I'm trying." Church cocked his head to the side slightly and reached up and patted Grif's hooded head playfully. He wanted so badly to help him past whatever torment his mind was putting him through.

Grif smacked his hand away, and Church's face flashed with hurt but only for a second. Grif saw it though, and he felt bad in return. The Blue was really only trying to help.

Please let me know what you think. It helps keep me going. 3


End file.
